


Kicking Against the Pricks

by CaptainHoney



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Changing POV, M/M, Modern AU, No serum Steve, Punk AU, Skateboarding, Stucky - Freeform, although bucky isn't the winter soldier so not sure if actually?, and a wee bit of violence, bucky still has a prosthetic arm, but not too much, but w/e, first person POV, let's fall in love and fight nazis, meet cute kind of, meet ouch?, my first little steve fic, sam shows up briefly too, shrinkyclinks, wee bit of description of a broken ankle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 13:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainHoney/pseuds/CaptainHoney
Summary: There’s a new guy at the skate park. He doesn’t bring a board, just sort of sits on the outskirts and watches. I feel his eyes on me.The cute guy at the skate park has just completely stacked it again.Bucky and Steve are a couple of New York punks just looking to fall in love and kick the Trump supporters out of their local scene.





	Kicking Against the Pricks

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the amazing babyboybuckybarnes, it's been such a pleasure working with you and getting to do something different from my usual MO for this fic!

 

**Should I Stay or Should I Go – The Clash**

There’s a new guy at the skate park. He doesn’t bring a board, just sort of sits on the outskirts and watches. I feel his eyes on me. He wears leather all the time and his hair is long. That’s not unusual; lots of people who hang around here look like that. But this guy has an intensity to him. I can feel his gaze, feel it burning into me. I’ve stacked it more than once because I could sense him staring at me and I lost my nerve. The first time I fell on my ass I saw him start towards me and I thought for a minute he was going to attack me, so I got up in a hurry and he disappeared. I don’t know what his deal is. He doesn’t look like an undercover cop. A couple of the other guys reckon he’s a talent scout. They came up with a whole elaborate scenario about how he works for MTV and Tony Hawk before they got bored. They stopped caring, then they stopped paying attention, then they stop noticing him altogether. But I didn’t. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I haven’t. What the hell does this guy want from me.

 

**Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve) – Buzzcocks**

_The cute guy at the skate park has just completely stacked it again. Every time it happens I think he’s going to snap in half. He just looks so delicate. I’m sure he’d thump me if I said that to him but it’s true; he’s goddamn dainty._

_There’s only a couple of other people around, and they’re not his usual crew, and no one’s helping him._

_Last time I wanted to help him he looked at me like I was going to eat him. Which is probably fair. It may possibly be true that I have been coming here on my lunch break almost every day in the hopes of seeing him, and it may also possibly (probably) be true that it’s a weird and stalkerish thing to do._

_I’m sitting right on the edge of the bench, bouncing my legs up and down, waiting for him to get up, but he doesn’t. Why doesn’t anyone help him._

_Ugh, fine. I’m getting up, I’m going over. He groans, and I see him try to move a little. There’s a bright splash of blood on the cement._

_‘Are you ok?’ Stupid question, he’s clearly not ok._

_He pushes himself up on his elbows and looks down at his ankle with such a mournful expression that I almost laugh, except I look at his ankle too and it’s all… floppy. Gross. His knees are shredded and there’s a graze on his chin as well._

_‘Did you hit your head?’_

_‘Naw.’ He tries to move his leg and his face immediately goes white and green._

_‘Ok pal, I’m gonna take you to the hospital, ok?’ He shakes his head. ‘Alright, fine, you got someone I can call?’_

_He gives me a look equal parts stubbornness and guilt. ‘I’m fine. I don’t need any help.’_

_‘Fine.’ I put my hand on my hip. ‘Walk away then.’_

_Staring me dead in the eyes he stands up, takes one step and immediately yacks all over the pavement. So gross._

_‘Alright buddy, this is happening.’_

_I bend and hoist him over my shoulder, which he does not like. He tries to kick me and then yells an expletive very loudly right in my ear. This is what I get for being a gentleman._

 

**I Wanna Be Sedated – The Ramones**

If I wasn’t almost blacked out from pain I would be kicking this guy’s ass right now. I’m pretty sure my ankle is broken but I would give a solid, grade-A go.

He shoved me in a back of a cab, which the driver was _not_ happy about, and is now glowering in the seat next to me. If I hadn’t seen him hail the cab I’d be pretty sure he was getting one of his buddies to help kidnap me. Not that I’ve ever seen him with any buddies. He only ever seems to go to the park alone.

We get to NYC Health and he pays the cabbie then comes round to my side of the car. He does some weird thing with his jacket them picks me up bridal-style and starts carrying me to the doors. I want to protest but everything is stars and redness.

The arm holding my legs is weirdly hard. I’m in too much pain to think so I squint up at him and ask, ‘Are you a robot?’

He gives me a really weird look then seems to realise something. He laughs. ‘It’s a prosthetic, dumbass.’

I’m lowered into a wheelchair and a guy in scrubs gives me a thing to blow on. The blowy thing is incredible. I feel like I’m floating. The scrubs guy and the scary guy wheel me into a waiting room and have a conversation over my head that… well, that’s where it goes.

‘It’s going to be a while, you’ll just have to wait.’ Scrubs Guy finally says to me, smiling apologetically. ‘Fill in these forms as best you can while you wait, I’ll come give you some more painkillers if it’s taking too long.’

I nod enthusiastically. More whistle thing, yes. Scary Guy sits down beside me and starts filling out the forms. I realise he is holding my wallet and my ID.

‘You took my wallet!’ I know I should be indignant but it all feels very far away. ‘Is that why do you have a prosthetic arm? Is it for crimes?’

He gives me a long look, lips twitching. ‘I was in a skateboarding accident.’

I can feel my eyes widen. I look down at my mangled foot, trying to imagine life without it. ‘Oh nooo.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m kidding. That was mean.’ He laughs. How dare he laugh. ‘I _was_ in an accident, though. I, um, fell off a train.’

‘How do you fall off a train?’ Ridiculous. Scary Guy is ridiculous.

‘I was seventeen and thought train surfing was an extremely cool and good idea.’ He pulls off his leather glove and looks down at the hand, new-born pink and solid. ‘It… was not.’

‘You’re a dumbass.’

‘Yeah, I’m a dumbass.’ He laughs again. What’s so funny. ‘You oughtta talk.’

‘I’m very smart and cool.’ I try to stomp my foot and a starburst of pain answers. I scrunch my eyes up and breathe deep through my nose. ‘I only stacked it because you keep staring at me and psyching me out.’

‘I… didn’t think you’d noticed that.’ I peek at him; he’s gone a bit pink, like he’s embarrassed. ‘You probably think I’m a stalker or something.’

‘Or something.’ The pain has subsided a bit and I’m starting to feel all floaty again. ‘Why the hell are you always staring at me?’

He leans back, trying to look all casual with his arm up on the chair, but his face is bright red. ‘No reason.’

‘Definitely not suspicious,’ I say sarcastically. His lips twitch.

‘I need your medical history for the form, ok?’ He taps the pen against the clipboard.

‘That’s a long list.’ I gesture for the form and he hands it over with a sceptical expression. From the corner of my eye I can see his eyebrows rising as I fill in line after line.

‘Dude.’

‘It’s fine.’ I’m pressing so hard that the pen is making a little groove in the paper. I shove the clipboard back, taking a deep breath. ‘I’m not some fragile little thing that you can just-‘

‘Hey, no, that’s not-‘ He shakes his head. ‘You’re just starting to make a bit more sense, is all.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Well, the fact that you tried to walk away from me on a broken leg, for one thing.’ He smiles at me and it’s a very nice smile. I feel a fluttering in my stomach that I hope is just another stage of the painkillers. ‘Hey, I’m gonna go get a soda, you want anything?’

I make a movement with my head but I’m not totally sure what it is. He balances the clipboard and my wallet on my knee and gets up. There’s a corner of paper torn from the bottom of the form. I worry at it with my fingernail.

 

**Waiting Room - Fugazi**

_His name is Steve Rogers and I am in love with him._

_Shit._

_I call Natasha and let her know where I am. She’s very good at a) not reacting when I tell her I’m at the hospital and b) pretending not to be pissed when I ask for the rest of the day off. I can_ see _her smug little smile when she tells me she’s surprised I’d blow off work for some boy, and I know she’s going to smirk at me until I tell her everything. Ugh. Brat._

_The vending machine proceeds to cause an extended existential crisis. What sort of soda does Steve like? Was that even a nod when I asked him if he wanted one? Is he out of it enough for that I can casually slip him a Buzzfeed quiz called “Which Soda Are You?” without him thinking I am very, very strange?_

_I get us both Diet Coke because life is meaningless and decisions are impossible. Steve will probably think I’m a dark wizard trying to give him a death potion or something at this point but he takes it and smiles at me and drinks. His smile is ridiculous._

_‘You look mad, are you mad?’ he asks, squinting at me._

_‘Huh? No, I’m just- thirsty,’ I say, choking a little on the last word._

_‘Ok, good. The only here allowed to be mad is me.’ He slides down in the chair a little, resting the can against his forehead. His face is pale and I’m guessing the painkiller is wearing off._

_‘What are you mad about?’_

_‘You pushed me off my skateboard.’ He scowls at me._

_‘I wasn’t anywhere near you!’_

_‘You pushed me… with your eyes.’ His scowl deepens._

_‘That doesn’t make sense.’_

_‘You don’t make sense.’_

_‘Oh my god.’ I laugh and he scowls so hard I’m worried he’s going to hurt his face. ‘Ok, ok, I’m sorry for- for pushing you.’_

_‘It’s ok, I guess,’ he grumbles. ‘Don’t you have somewhere else you oughtta be?’_

_‘My boss knows where I am,’ I say. He looks at me suspiciously._

_‘Where do you work?’_

_‘Soldat Records, it’s that store on-‘_

_‘Yeah, I love that place!’ he sits up a little. ‘I’ve never seen you there.’_

_‘I don’t work in the shop much. I mostly do admin, actually.’ I don’t generally talk about my work. Usually people are satisfied with hearing I work in a record store, but I don’t want to mislead Steve. ‘I do the accounts, payroll, that kind of thing.’_

_‘You’re an accountant?’ His confused face his very cute._

_‘I like maths,’ I say with a shrug. ‘Besides – and this may shock you – I’m not a great people person. Apparently customers complained about the “intensity of my vibe”.’_

_Steve snorts. ‘That sounds about right.’_

_‘I used to be when I was a teenager, before…’ I gesture to my prosthesis. I don’t know why I’m telling him this stuff. He’s probably not even going to remember. ‘I hit my head too, got brain damage. I had to relearn a bunch of stuff. Never quite got the hang of affability.’_

_A nurse comes over, a different one to the guy who brought us in. This one’s burlier, looks like she’s getting ready for a fight. She gives me a disapproving look and turns to Steve._

_‘This the guy who did this to you?’_

_Steve says ‘yes’ at the same time I say ‘no’. I guess I should’ve seen that coming._

_‘He fell,’ I tell her, but she doesn’t look interested._

_‘Are you friend or family?’ she snaps at me._

_‘I’m… uh…’_

_‘You the brother? The boyfriend? What?’ she crosses her arms impatiently._

_‘I’m not- I’m-‘ I look at Steve. He’s staring at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out. ‘I’m just a guy, I guess.’_

_‘Are you intending to press charges?’ she asks Steve._

_‘What?’ He pulls himself up in his seat and stares at her. ‘Press char- oh, no, he didn’t- it was an accident.’_

_‘I’m sure.’ She takes the clipboard from him and reads over it. ‘If there’s someone who can come pick you up, call them. You need to leave, we don’t have room for anyone who’s not family.’_

_She says this last bit to me. She gives Steve back the clipboard and marches off with a final warning look. I see her point me out to one of the security guards as she goes and I know what she’s saying:_ keep an eye, any trouble _…_

_‘I should clear off,’ I mutter to Steve. He looks… hurt? ‘You got a friend you can call?’_

_‘Yeah.’ He pulls out his phone. The screen is cracked. ‘Aw, phone…’_

_I ensure he can still make calls, then I slip away while he’s on the phone. I should say goodbye but I don’t want to cause trouble._

 

**Lust for Life – Iggy Pop**

Wanda is not impressed. She doesn’t even seem to care that I finally met Scary Guy, or that he’s actually nice. She picks me up from the hospital in an Uber and barely says anything the whole way home. I ramble at her; I’m on super strong painkillers, and my ankle wrapped in a huge, hot pink cast.

‘Did you even get his name?’ she finally asks after I’ve mentioned Scary Guy for about the hundredth time.

‘Of course I got his name! it’s- shit. Fuck.’

‘That’s a terrible name.’

‘Shut up, I’m thinking.’ She sticks her tongue out and I ignore her. What was his name? Did he tell me? He must have told me. I can’t believe I forgot his name. I can’t keep calling him Scary Guy now that I know he’s not actually scary.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t get his name.’

‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.’

The Uber driver gives us a business card with his details on it. I go to slip it in my wallet and discover a scrap of paper tucked in front of my ID. I start grinning and Wanda gives me a weird look.

‘What the hell are you smiling about?’

I show her the piece of paper; it’s got a phone number written underneath the words _Bucky Barnes_.

 

**I Have a Date - Vandals**

_My phone rings as I’m closing up. I hand Natasha the box of records I’m carrying and check the screen: unknown number._

_‘Hello?’_

_‘Is this Bucky?’_

_I almost drop the phone. ‘Steve?’_

_Natasha gets an almost demonic smile on her face. I glare at her and she smiles wider._

_‘Yeah, yeah, it’s Steve. Um- how are you?’_

_‘I’m good, how- how are you? How’s the leg?’_

_‘It’s fine.’_

_There’s an awkward silence. Natasha and I make faces at each other._

_‘Listen, um…’ I can hear Steve shushing someone. ‘Look, I wanted to say thanks. For the other day.’_

_‘That’s alright.’ There’s another awkward silence. Natasha is shaking her head at me. I tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear and flip her off. ‘Hey, I just remembered, I’ve got your board.’_

_‘Yeah?’ his voice perks up._

_‘Yeah, I realised we left it there so I went back and got it.’_

_‘Thanks, man. Do you want to come drop it round tomorrow? I’d come get it, but, y’know…’ he sounds a little embarrassed._

_‘Yeah, sure, what’s the address?’_

_I wave at Natasha, miming writing something down. She shakes the box of records at me. I wave harder and she puts the box down, throws up her hands, then grabs a notepad from the counter. I flail about for a writing surface and she rolls her eyes enormously and turns around so I can lean on her back._

_‘Can you repeat that?’ Steve gives me the name and address of a skate shop a few blocks over and I scribble it down, adding an extra hard full stop just to spite Nat. ‘Ok, I’ll come by around noon?’_

_‘Yeah, sure. See you then, ok?’_

_He hangs up. I grin at Natasha, who gives me the smuggest look I have ever seen on a human person._

_‘What.’_

_‘You’re very cute.’_

_‘I’m not cute. I’m a big, tough punk and I’m just going to save this guy’s number real quick and then I’m gonna need you to put Vandals on very loudly over the store P.A. please.’_

 

**Skate Or Die – Teenage Bottlerocket**

_The skate shop is cramped and smells weird, but their stuff is quality. A bored-looking girl in a red jacket sits on top of the counter, reading a comic. On the wall behind her is row after row of custom decks. There’s a little cardboard sign that reads:_ custom decks and decals by Steve Rogers from $60 _._

_I gesture to the sign. ‘Hey, I’m, um, here to see the artist in residence.’_

_She looks up at me with a withering expression. ‘What?’_

_‘Steve. I’m looking for Steve,’ I reply._

_‘Are you that guy?’ she asks._

_‘What?’_

_‘The guy. Yeah, I reckon you’re him.’ She squints at me and it’s extremely unnerving. ‘He’s out back, hang on.’_

_She reaches under the counter and grabs a ring of keys which she tosses at my head. ‘Through there,’ she says, gesturing vaguely at a doorway behind her._

_I unlock it and toss the keys back. She grabs them without looking, head back in the comic._

_There’s a little hallway with doors marked ‘bathroom’ and ‘kitchen’ to one side, and another at the end with ‘workshop’ written on it in slime-green spray paint. I can hear Fugazi pumping from the other side of the door. I crack it open; it’s a big space, twice the size of the shop, full of benches and shelves covered in stacked tins of paint. Gig posters cover every spare inch of wall space. Disassembled skateboards lie everywhere. A big, paint-flecked stereo system is blasting away in the corner._

_Steve’s in the back, barefoot in a tank top and shorts with a facemask on. He’s airbrushing a stencil onto a deck. I lean against a bench and watch him work. He taps his foot – the one that’s not in a giant pink cast – along to the music and I catch snatches oh him singing along. Finally he puts the airbrush down and turns. He catches sight of me and jumps, going pink. It’s very, very cute and I try not to laugh._

_‘Sorry, I was, uh-‘_

_‘It’s ok.’ I push up off the bench and step towards him, feeling very shy. I’m overwhelmed by a sudden wave of awkwardness and I put my hand out like I want to shake. ‘It’s good to see you.’_

_‘Likewise,’ he says with a raised eyebrow. We shake hands, both of us blushing. ‘Did Wanda let you in?’_

_‘Yeah. You guys have a pretty open door policy.’_

_‘She’s, um, she’s heard about you. I mean, that you were coming.’ He pulls the facemask down and his voice is suddenly clearer. ‘Did you bring the board?’_

 

**In the City – The Jam**

That was a stupid question. I can see the board sticking out of his bag. He knows I can see it. I have definitely not been taken by surprise at how handsome he is up close now that I’m not either in total agony or completely loopy. There’s a completely logical explanation for why I suddenly sound like an idiot.

‘Yeah, hang on…’ He slings the bag over his head and drops it on the bench. He hands the board over; it’s a little dinged up but it doesn’t look too bad.

‘I assumed it’d snapped.’ I spin one of the wheels experimentally; it falls off.

‘I swear that’s not my fault.’ He gets down on his knees to pick the wheel up and I am definitely not suddenly blushing very hard at all. ‘Hey, um, I was wondering if maybe I could take you to lunch. To apologise, or whatever.’

‘You won’t be able to take me very far.’

He laughs. ‘That’s ok, I know somewhere close.’

‘Yeah, ok. That sounds good.’ I start rifling through a stack of paper on one of the benches. ‘Where did I put my goddam phone…’

He starts helping me look for it. We keep brushing hands and if I keep definitely not blushing I’m going to have to keep my face mask on all through lunch. Suddenly my ringtone blares from under a stack of pages and I dive for it.

‘Wanda? What’s up?’

‘Will you nerds get out of here?’ She waves at us from the doorway, phone in her hand. ‘Seriously, go get me a sandwich.’

I glare at her and put my jacket on. It’s not easy to maintain a glare and use crutches at the same time, but I manage. Bucky shrugs at her as we leave. 

‘I have one of those too,’ he says as we leave the shop.

‘A Wanda?’ He nods. ‘Everybody should.’

He takes me to a place a block and a half away. We go slowly; I still haven’t quite got the hang of the crutches, but Bucky walks like this is the same pace he always goes at. I feel safe with him, in a way a skinny queer kid with piercings and weird hair like me usually doesn’t get to. He really does give off an intense vibe; even at our snail’s pace he walks like he’s on a mission. He’s got a leather jacket and these big fuck-off boots and he looks like he could knock a guy out pretty easy. He’s also got sky blue eyes and a smile that looks like it holds wicked things, but is also soft and warm. That and killer cheekbones. Am I staring? I may be staring.

 

**New Rose – The Damned**

_Steve has just walked into a pole._

_He swears loudly and goes bright red and for a second I think he’s going to try and challenge the pole to a fight._

_‘Do you actually enjoy going to the hospital?’ I blurt out._

_‘’S not my fault,’ he grumbles, ‘they shouldn’t’ve put that pole where I was walking.’_

_‘Ok, pal.’_

_I steer him into the coffee shop before he trips over a fire hydrant._

_I’ve brought him to one of my favourite places in Brooklyn; there’s a grungy coffee shop in the front and a dive bar at the back, with a little outside garden bit in between. None of the furniture matches, there’s a fridge behind the counter with the lyrics of ‘Cool for Cats’ written on it, and the garden has a ‘no knitting’ sign next to the one for ‘no smoking’. It’ll probably be an overpriced donut shop in three months._

_We order coffee and sandwiches and I send a text to Nat:_ at lunch with clumsiest man alive. Worried may accidentally kill him, please advise _. She sends back a baffling and definitely obscene sequence of emojis. I shove my phone in my pocket, imagining for a moment that she’s trapped in it and I’m imprisoning her in my jeans._

_‘So you paint?’ I ask, stupidly._

_‘Yeah,’ he replies, looking wary._

_‘That’s really cool.’_

_‘Yeah?’ He doesn’t sound like he believes me._

_‘It is. Do you just do skateboards, or other stuff as well?’_

_He perks up. ‘I do some graphic design stuff as well, professionally, but I work on proper canvases sometimes too.’_

_‘I’d love to see them.’_

_He stares at me for a moment, then pulls out his phone. The screen is still cracked, but it works well enough. He scrolls through his Instagram, showing me a couple of pieces. His commercial work is fairly stylised, mostly graphics for skate companies and record labels, but there’s a lot of fine art as well, portraits and surreal landscapes. They’re really good, and I tell him so._

_‘Thanks.’ He looks down at the table, ears going pink. ‘It pays the bills. Most of them, anyway. This… is gonna be a pain.’_

_He gestures to his leg, which he’s propped up on the chair next to him._

_‘I didn’t even think… do you have insurance?’_

_‘Yeah, but it’s so fucking expensive.’ He sighs. ‘With the way everything’s going, I’m worried I’m gonna have to find other work.’_

_‘That sucks.’ I wish I had something better to say. My hand curls into a fist. ‘You shouldn’t have to stop doing what you love.’_

_‘Other people have it plenty worse than me. I’ve still got options,’ he says. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t start talking politics.’_

_‘It’s ok. It’s hard to talk about anything else.’ The waitress finally brings our food over._

_‘Yeah, but I feel like it’s bad form on a date.’ I choke on the bite I’ve just taken and he gives me a sly look. ‘This is a date, right?’_

_Uuuuuuhhh…’ I take a sip of coffee, burning the roof of my mouth. This is going super well. Super, super well._

_‘Oh shit, I haven’t misread things, have I?’ He goes pink._

_‘No! No, I- it’s a date if you want it to be a date.’ Nice save, Bucky. Super smooth. ‘Do you?’_

_Oh my god._

_‘Well, I mean, that’s what I thought it was, so…’ he pours creamer in his coffee then pulls a face. ‘Wait, I hate creamer.’_

_This guy is an idiot and we are clearly a perfect match what am I going to do._

_‘I’ll swap you.’ I switch our cups, adding more creamer and two sugars. I give him a look, daring him to say something, but he just blushes in an extremely cute fashion and takes a sip of my coffee._

 

**Tonight I’m Burning – Bombshell Rocks**

Bucky Barnes is perfect.

That is definitely an exaggeration and this will probably go terribly wrong but to me, right now, remembering that I am taking quite strong painkillers, he is perfect.

We talked for a really long time, until Wanda called and told me I had to come back to work because she had to pee and she didn’t want to close the shop. We talked about music, and movies, and work, and even politics some more after the first awkward exchange. He’s smart, and he pays a lot of attention. He’s also a lot more cynical than I am.

He walked me back to the shop, and I managed not to walk into anything. We loitered at the door for a bit. I didn’t want to say goodbye but my ankle was starting to kill me and also Wanda stuck her head through the door and yelled at me.

Wanda went back inside again and Bucky leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. He hovered there for a moment, breath soft and sweet on my face, and I turned my head and kissed him back. He tasted like coffee and chewing gum and he kissed me like he really, really wanted to.

He walked away and I had to wait for Wanda to come help me inside because I went a little weak in the knees, which is very difficult to manage with a broken ankle.

 

**Rise Above – Black Flag**

_Officially I have been on three dates with Steve Rogers and they have all been wonderful. Unofficially, we’ve hung out at lunchtime every day for a week. I bring sandwiches or sushi or tacos to his shop on my lunch break and we eat in the workshop while he grumbles about not being able to skate. We’ve gone out for dinner twice and been to a movie marathon (we only made it through the first film before his ankle got too bad and we had to leave, but it was still good)._

_Now we’re in his apartment, which is huge, hanging out with his housemates, who are many. Wanda lives here as well with her brother Pietro, and there’s Sam and his boyfriend Riley. When I told Natasha I was going to Steve’s she invited herself along, so of course she’s here. She also signed his cast because she’s obnoxious._

_‘Hello, I am Bucky’s only friend,’ she said when she arrived. Wanda and Natasha immediately became best friends and it is awful._

_Sam and Riley are in a band together. He’s currently loudly telling us all about a band called Death while he hunts through their impressive record collection. He and Natasha have already promised to plug any relevant gaps in each others’ collections. Steve has his head in my lap and his feet on the arm of the couch, taking up a lot of space for such a small guy. The graze under his chin has most of the way healed. I scratch along his jaw line and he practically purrs._

_He pulls out his phone and scrolls Twitter absently. ‘Jesus, did you see what Trump said?’_

_‘Oh lord, what was it this time?’ Sam abandons the records and folds his arms. ‘Y’know a bunch of Nazi assholes tried to jump me after the show last night? We got off stage and they were there waiting for us. I don’t know if it was a racist thing or a homophobe thing, but I’m getting sick of this shit.’_

_‘I don’t think there’s a man alive who’s not sick of this shit,’ Wanda says. ‘I’ve had that much more anti-Semitic shit said to me since the election…’_

_Steve sits bolt upright, glaring from Sam to Wanda. ‘Who’s doing this? They have to be stopped.’_

_‘What’re you gonna do, Stevie, hit them with your crutches?’ Wanda’s tone is teasing but gentle. ‘The whole country’s like this now.’_

_‘The whole country was always like this,’ Natasha says, ‘people are just less afraid to admit it now.’_

_‘We should still do something. We can’t let Nazis be hanging out at shows and stuff, that’s not right.’ Steve swings his legs to the floor and stands up shakily. ‘If we can’t kick the pricks out of office, we can at least let them know they’re not welcome at shows.’_

_‘What are you proposing?’ Riley asks._

_‘Maybe… a show? A ‘Brooklyn Punks against Trump’ concert, with a bunch of local bands, with funds going to, I don’t know, Planned Parenthood or something.’ Steve has an intense look, like he’s burning from the inside. ‘We’ll get everyone together, make a stand against these assholes invading the scene. I’ll make a bunch of posters, find a venue…’_

_‘We can be the venue,’ Natasha says. ‘Soldat do plenty of shows, and we can fit a pretty decent crowd if we rearrange things a bit.’_

_‘Can you bring some bands on board?’_

_‘Sure.’ She shrugs. ‘I’ll talk to some label people.’_

_‘We’ll play,’ Sam says._

_‘Yeah, absolutely.’_

_Steve is practically vibrating. I pull him back down onto the couch and he pouts at me._

_‘Slow down there, Stevie,’ I say, ‘before you go marching off into the night and fuck your ankle up.’_

_He slumps against me with his arms crossed, making cute little grumbly noises._

_‘Steve?’_

_‘What.’_

_‘It’s a really good idea.’_

_‘You really think so?’ He beams up at me and my heart thumps painfully hard._

_‘Yeah, I do.’_

 

**Rebels With a Cause – Dropkick Murphies**

Word gets out quickly. We have to book a bigger venue; the Soldat Records building is large, but not large enough, and Natasha has an issue with getting the relevant permits. I know because I go to meet Bucky and she’s there, looking absolutely beatific and serene, and Bucky seems terrified.

‘I will _not_ be shocked if the entirety of the local council turn up dead,’ he tells me.

I make a collage-style poster, a rough and ugly image of a dead pig with Trump’s hair. It’s not exactly subtle, but I’m not exactly trying to be. We hang them all over the city. Bucky tells me he’s already seen a bunch of them defaced, which I’m definitely taking as a positive.

What’s less positive is the number of death threats Natasha has been getting. She’s the most visible organiser other than me, and Bucky’s had to take my phone away to stop me from tracking down the people sending her vile shit and pounding them. She shrugs it off; Bucky says she’s the strongest, scariest person he knows.

A few people have sent messages to me and some of the bands as well, a lot of homophobic stuff and a couple of death threats. Bucky always gets really riled up when he sees them and I tell him if I’m not allowed to track down Natasha’s trolls, he’s not allowed to track down mine. He insists it’s different because he’s my boyfriend and Natasha’s only my recent acquaintance, but I put my slowly healing foot down.

 

**Your Name is Tattooed on My Heart – Screeching Weasel**

It’s really, really good to call Bucky my boyfriend. I was mistaken earlier when I said I was probably exaggerating; he is definitely perfect. We hang out every day at lunch and most evenings, not even doing much, just listening to music and talking. He doesn’t know many bands that put out anything after 1985, so I play him a bunch of stuff and tell him about all the shows I’m going to drag him to when I can finally pogo again.

Bucky doesn’t make me feel bad for wanting so much. He doesn’t try and tell me to stop, or slow down, or try to tell me that I can’t. He just asks me how I’m doing, makes sure I’m ok, is there when I need him. I feel like he has my back the way no one else does. He sees the fight in me and doesn’t try to put it out.

I get my cast off two days before the show. The skin is pink and swollen and honestly pretty grody. Bucky helps me get my shoe back on and even does a very good job of pretending he’s not grossed out. Natasha and Wanda had offered to cut the cast off for me and save me the trip but Bucky insisted on getting it done properly. Still, I’m fairly certain he lied and told them we were going to the movies.

‘So I guess now you’re all healed up you don’t need me anymore,’ he says as we make our way to the bus stop.

‘Yeah, rack off.’ We grin at each other, but then he drops his eyes and looks like he goes far away for a second. ‘Hey.’

‘Hm?’

I squeeze his hand, lacing our fingers together more tightly. ‘You’re not getting away from me that easy.’

‘Damn.’ He smiles, bumping our shoulders together.

 

**Where Eagles Dare - Misfits**

_Steve and I take an early train to the show. Natasha and the others have been there for hours, setting up and running sound checks. The carriage is mostly empty and we stretch out, taking up a whole bank of seats. Steve rests his ankle on my leg; he pretends it doesn’t still hurt him, but I know it’s a lie._

_A group of skinhead-looking types gets on the train. They’re in the next carriage, but they’re making a lot of noise and it filters through the doors. Steve is craning his neck, doing that thing I’ve seen him do when he’s getting ready for a fight where his body starts tensing up. I take his wrist and pull him gently back against the seat so he can’t see through the doors._

_‘Aw, Buck…’_

_‘The girls would kill us if we got in a fight and missed the show.’ I rub his palm with my thumb in slow, soothing circles. ‘Save that energy for the pit, yeah?’_

_He slumps in his seat and scowls. I think he’s going to keep arguing but he just stews until we get to our stop._

_The skinheads are getting off the train as well. They’re yelling something that sounds like a chant, but it’s difficult to make out. Steve is practically bouncing, trying to see past me and get a good look at them. I shepherd him down the opposite end of the platform and out of the station. The skinheads don’t follow us onto the street._

_‘Bucky…’ Steve is twitchy with anger. ‘Did you hear what those guys were yelling?’_

_‘No, did you?’_

_‘Well, no, but…’ he goes pink, ‘I’m sure it wasn’t good.’_

_‘Steve, baby, if you don’t start marching outta here then I’m gonna call Natasha and tell her that you skipped out after all her hard work just because of a bunch of guys on the train who_ may _have been saying some not very nice things.’ I put my hand on my hip. ‘Take a wild guess how well she’s gonna take that.’_

_‘Bucky, it’s not-‘ he throws up his hands. ‘It’s about- the principle!’_

_‘Isn’t this show about the principle?’ I remind him gently. ‘I thought the whole idea was to tell guys like that where they can stick it.’_

_He grumbles something incoherent and I raise an eyebrow._

_‘I could have told them in person!’ he says, stomping his foot. He immediately winces. ‘Ow.’_

_‘Ok, pal, let’s get going before you injure yourself out of spite.’ I nudge the small of his back and he starts trudging down the street, avoiding my eyes. ‘Hey.’_

_‘What.’_

_I grab his wrist and pull him around to face me. He scowls at my chest. I let his wrist go and take his chin, raising it gently. He lets me kiss him, and after a moment he kisses me back. We press our foreheads together._

_‘You gonna be ok?’_

_‘Yeah.’ He sighs. ‘I just… wanna punch some Nazis.’_

_‘I know, baby.’ I kiss him again. ‘Can we get going?’_

_‘Yeah, ok.’ We start walking, hands linked. He gives me a sly sideways look. ‘You’re really terrified of Nat, aren’t you?’_

_‘Yes, because I am a wise and sensible person.’_

 

**Nazi Punks Fuck Off – Dead Kennedys**

The venue is absolutely packed. Wanda insists I watch most of the show from the side of stage because she is a killjoy and tells me if I try and mosh I’m just going to end up in a cast again. She is definitely not correct and I am definitely not grateful for the chance to sit down whenever I get carried away pogo-ing.

I can see Bucky from here, right up the front of the crowd. He stashed his prosthetic with Nat in the little office she somehow managed to wrangle for herself, and is now right in the centre of the moshpit. He’s fearless, not caring at all if people hit him, but I can see the way he still looks out for people around him. Someone passed out earlier and almost before anyone else could react Bucky was motioning to security and helping hoist them over the barrier. The moshpit is survival of the fittest for guys like me; I move when the crowd moves and hope I don’t get crushed. It’s guys like Bucky who make sure guys like me can still have a good time. I think I watch him more than I watch any of the bands.

One of the last bands has just finished and is walking off stage when it starts. There’s so much noise, everyone cheering and stomping, but in the slight dip in sound levels that comes with the lack of music, a chant is crystallising from the back of the crowd. From here I can see recognition rippling all the way up to the front.

 _TRUMP. TRUMP. TRUMP. TRUMP_.

For a moment the rest of the noise stops and as one the crowd turns. It’s deathly silent apart from the chanting for a moment, then someone amid the crowd of disruptors yells _SIEG HEIL_ and I’m running out of the wings, launching myself off the stage.

The crowd carries me, and they’re surging too, and I can see the group of skinheads from the train by the doors, but there’s more of them now, about twenty, and it looks like a couple of them have bats and chains.

The crowd lowers me onto the floor and we’re all pushing forward, getting ready. I feel a hand on my shoulder and look back; Bucky and I lock eyes. For a second it’s just us, trapped in one amber moment, then he nods. His hand takes mine and we’re making our way through the crowd, elbowing our way to the front. This is what I’m good at; I keep my head low, finding gaps only I can see, and Bucky is pulled along in my wake.

Suddenly we’re at the front of the ring of people surrounding the skinheads. Their chanting dies down and the crowd breathes as one, waiting for someone to make a move.

‘Nazi punks fuck off!’ someone yells.

‘Nazi punks, Nazi punks, Nazi punks fuck off!’ the crowds chants.

The skinheads start alternately yelling ‘Trump Trump Trump’ and ‘sieg heil’ but they’re rapidly drowned out by the chants of _NAZI PUNKS FUCK OFF_. The skinheads look over their shoulders for an exit and the circle of people parts near the doors.

There’s the sounds of distorted guitars from the stage; a couple of the bands have come back on, led by Sam, and they all launch into the Dead Kennedys. The crowd sings along until the cry is a wall of sound.

_NAZI PUNKS, NAZI PUNKS, NAZI PUNKS FUCK OFF!_

 

**The Rock Show – blink-182**

_The assholes are starting to leave. I think we’ve managed to get out of this without a single punch being thrown. Then one of them, a real creepy looking guy with swastika tattoos all over his arms, jumps forward and swings his bat right at Steve._

_I react without thinking. The bat smashes into my forearm and pain splinters behind my eyes. I push it down, yanking the bat out of his hands and headbutting the guy right between the eyes. I feel blood spurt from his nose all over my scalp. He staggers backwards into the crowd of skinheads. They catch him, holding him upright, and stare at me. I rest the bat on my shoulder and stare back._

_Half the skinheads are leaving, trickling out the doors in ones and twos. No one else is moving; the band has stopped playing. It’s like we’re all holding our breath._

_I feel movement beside me; Steve steps forward, fists raised. The chanting starts again, softly, then becomes a cacophonous roar._

NAZI PUNKS, NAZI PUNKS, NAZI PUNKS FUCK OFF!!

_The crowd surges forward again and the skinheads are running for the doors, tripping over each other in their hurry to leave. A section of the crowd splits off and follows them, but most people turn back to the stage where the assembled bands launch into the Dead Kennedys again._

_Steve looks for a moment like he wants to chase after them too, but instead he turns to me and grins. ‘We did it, Bucky.’_

_‘Yeah, we did!’ I toss the bat aside and gesture to the stage. ‘Shall we?’_

 

**I Love You – Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers**

We spill out onto the sidewalk after the show, everyone breaking off in little groups. It’s only a few hours before dawn and the air is crisp and cool. Sweat dries on my skin, making me shiver. Bucky puts his arm around my shoulders and we start walking, not heading anywhere in particular. There’s a party later, once the venue has been cleared out, but for now it’s just the two of us under the broad, black sky.

‘Bucky?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m really glad I broke my ankle.’

He gives me a confused look then laughs, a bright, barking sound that echoes up and all around us.

‘Just promise me you won’t do it again,’ he says, then he kisses me, and I’d break every bone in my body just for this.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the songs in the chapter headers are in the classic punk spotify playlist, which I listened to a lot while writing this. Kicking Against the Pricks is the name of a Nick Cave album and also apparently a biblical reference but idk about that business.  
> I have no idea if there are any bars/coffee shops like the ones our boys go to in Brooklyn, but the one in this story is based off a place I went to in St Kilda one time. 
> 
> This story had a bit of an evolution over the course of the big bang period. When babyboybuckybarnes first was working on the art, Trump had just been elected, and we were full of rage. We are still angry! But it's a different kind of anger now. Hopefully this story is still satisfying despite involving less nazis getting punched than was originally intended.


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